How to Reprimand Your Rock Star (DommeNation #2) (23 page)

I fixed my hair for the thousandth time. I wanted each curl in place so that it didn’t look like I needed a keratin treatment, or whatever that Perez blogger had said. I’d be seen publicly tonight, and I had to look the part of a rock star’s girlfriend.

I one-upped that and looked like a rock star’s Domme.

My boots from Scarlett gave the outfit a decidedly killer look. There was a fair bit more eye makeup than I was used to and these jeans did not offer me the kind of mobility that yoga pants did, but damn they looked fine. My top was corset-esque without being overtly lingerie. I looked at myself in the mirror and nodded.

I was ready for the concert.

The driver from the other day, I discovered, would be my chauffeur for the entire trip. He traveled with Trickster City and everyone loved his dependable nature and the way he knew all the European cities so well. The guy was pretty much a built-in tour guide.

As we drove to the venue he pointed out some of the local sights, which was nice because I wouldn’t be getting any kind of formal tours of any of the cities we’d be in except for Athens, where Keaton guaranteed we’d be for a few days. So sweet of him.

The driver, whose name was Len, pulled up to the entrance of the venue and gave me a warm smile.

“Mister Lowe thinks very highly of you, dear,” he said.

I smiled back. “Thanks.”

He shook his head. “I haven’t heard him gush about someone this much. Just wanted you to know. You look a little scared and wide-eyed, so I thought my words might put you at ease. You’re in good hands with him.”

I grinned all the way from the car to the ticket booth to the VIP entrance.

“Nice to see you,” Sammie said, sidling up to me with a hug. The place was bustling with friends, press, family, and crew. I couldn’t believe just how many people it took to put on a Trickster City show.

“Hey,” I said, overwhelmed. “This is crazy.”

She shook her head and took a swig of water. “This is quiet. Wait until after the show.”

“Wow,” I said, trying to picture even more people in here.

“The dressing rooms are this way, if you want to say hi before they go on,” Sammie said, pointing.

I followed her toward Keaton’s dressing room, which was bigger than the other dressing rooms and had a separate area for rehearsing. It was similar to the one where we shared our first kiss. Swoon.

“Hello, Goddess,” Keaton said, sitting in a chair in front of a mirror. A woman was applying his eye makeup, smudging and reapplying. It made the blue of his eyes really pop. It still made me laugh that I was with a guy who wore makeup, but he was probably still in shock that he was dating someone who was faster and stronger than he was. Hey, opposites attract.

I walked over to him without a word and put my fingertips on his collar. He kissed my hand. “You’re going to be awesome tonight,” I said.

“For you,” he said. “Every song.”

I smiled. “Can’t wait.”

The band’s manager entered and had to talk business with Keaton, so I left and sat down in the green room with Sammie. She was in college too, so it was nice to have some things in common to talk about. It was funny how much of a stretch it was, going from talking about dorms to partying with rockers.

The opening act was about to go on, and since the boys were busy, she and I took our places at the side of the stage and watched. I was able to peek out the side and see the crowd. I was nearly paralyzed with shock.

So. Overwhelming.

Thousands and thousands of people cheering, dancing, screaming. And this was just the opener! I knew a lot of people didn’t go to their seats until the headliner had arrived, so I couldn’t imagine how many folks would be cheering Keaton on.

“Pretty incredible, huh?” Sammie asked.

Speechless, I nodded.

She giggled and put her arm around me. “Welcome to the club.”

THE PRESHOW FESTIVITIES PASSED IN
a blur of lights and sound and before I was even mentally prepared, Keaton whooshed by me with a kiss. “I got a new song,” he whispered in my ear. “Just for you. It will be the second song in the encore.” And with that brief exchange, he was gone. Ready to rock.

I clasped Sammie’s hand and watched from the wings. We could have sat with the families in the first row, but being here on the side felt more intimate. I wasn’t part of the crowd; I was something else, something special.

The stage was dark and the curtain was down. There was an elaborate ramp system from what I could make out, and a large screen behind the band. This was a very different setup from when they played at UConn.

Suddenly, a
snap-snap-snap
on the drums and then a tsunami of guitar sounds. I skittered back, stunned by the noise. It was so loud! I felt my entire body tremble at the intro. The crowd went wild. This was one of the band’s new songs that had gone to the top of the charts on the single’s first day. It was called “Stomp On” and it chronicled life as a star, never stopping anywhere for too long.

By now, I knew their songs, but nothing could compare with seeing it performed live by my man. He positively ignited the stage with his presence, and when the spotlight shone on him alone, the entire world went away. He sang, voice loud and open with slight rasps on certain sounds. I felt my knees wobble and wondered if I should have picked the seats. Sammie glanced at me and I knew she was giggling at my swoon. I didn’t care.

Keaton mounted a huge amp and sang from on top, fist-pumping in the air, sweat dripping down his chest. Oh boy, my favorite part of any day, time for Keaton to take his shirt off. As he removed his shirt, the crowd surged ahead as if he willed it. I saw his collar glinting in the reflection of the spotlight and I felt my body clench. There it was, proof. Proof that he was mine.

I wanted to run out there and kiss him in front of all those people. Hell, the way I was worked up, I might even want to mount him right there. Fuck, those leather pants looked so good, and those little dimples on his lower back glistened with the sweat produced by rock and roll.

Suddenly, the band filed offstage so the drummer could do his epic solo. Keaton said it was three minutes of pure unadulterated beats.

Three minutes, I mused.

As Keaton walked past me I grabbed him.

“Hey, G—”

I put my hand over his mouth and dragged him behind the back curtain. Nobody saw, and I was glad about it.

“What—” I heard from between his lips.

I felt the roar of the crowd in front of us, separated by a thin sheet of fabric and a wall of drum vibrations, and unzipped his pants.

Dropping to my knees, I pulled out Keaton’s cock and sucked hard.

“Thea,” he breathed. “You’re blowing me in front of thousands of people.”

I just nodded and kept going, tongue possessed by the music. My arms were wrapped around his waist and I slid my hands up and down his dripping lower back as my mouth worked him to a frenzy.

“Hurry, I think someone’s coming.”

I pulled him out. “You’re coming in thirty seconds or you’re going back onstage with a boner.”

He put his hands on my head, twisting his fingers into my hair, and moaning softly as the drum solo came to a roaring climax.

Along with Keaton.

I stood; he zipped.

He shook his head at me. “You are something else, Mistress.”

Slapping his ass, I pushed him back onstage and he resumed his position at the mic.

There, in the wings, I cheered and sang and danced to Trickster City’s set. It was unbelievable. The music itself was flawless, unlike other bands that sounded much rougher in person. The personalities were amazing; the drum solo from earlier was incredible, and Keaton’s antics with the bassist were straight out of a comedy-duo act. They were consummate entertainers.

When the main show came to a close, I was almost sad. But as Keaton, sweating and glowing from the crowd’s praise, approached me, I knew the best part was yet to come. He kissed me and guzzled some water in silence, arm wrapped around my shoulder. Keaton was soaked but I didn’t care about messing up my clothes. He was here and I was in his arms and I fingered his collar with pride. “My Baby Blue,” I whispered to him.

“It’s almost time for your surprise,” he replied, and toweled himself off. “Gotta run.”

I leaned against the doorframe and watched as Trickster City reemerged with their biggest hit, “Troubled in Paradise.” Even I went nuts for this, singing every song and hitting every note the way Keaton did on the CD. Only onstage, he mixed it up a bit and threw in some alternate lyrics that made the crowd laugh. He was such a jokester sometimes.

When the song ended, my ears perked up.

“This is a new song, and tonight’s the first time I’m performing it,” he announced to the roaring crowd. “It’s called, ‘YOURS.’ ”

The rest of the band took a break, and Keaton sat on a stool with just a guitar and the spotlight.

“You,

You know I’m yours.

You know I’m sure,

About this being

A love for the ages,

A timeless endeavor,

I’m talking forever.

Eons will pass

And our love will last

Cities will crumble

Empires to rubble

But you and I,

Baby we’ll stay dry while it pours . . .

Cause I’m yours.”

I wiped tears from my eyes while Keaton launched into an acoustic guitar solo; he looked as emotional as I was. It was so beautiful, the way he sang those words. That he loved me, that we will outlast the world together. I was moved beyond belief.

He continued singing the chorus a few times, and the crowd started to sing along. Singing our song, about our love. Sammie passed me a tissue. The song ended and Keaton turned toward me on the side of the stage and said, “I love you, Goddess.”

“Love you, rock god,” I said back.

And somehow, thousands of miles from everything I knew, I felt at home. With Keaton, with our unconventional relationship, and with myself. A singer helped me find my voice, and a player abandoned his game for a different kind of victory.

Six Months Later

My heart pounded and the sweat dripped off my face in rivulets. My labored breath shot out of my mouth in hot bursts as I gasped for cool air to calm me down.

“Great game, Thea,” Coach said, patting my shoulder.

Jami, one of the new co-captains, gave me a fist bump as we reentered the locker room. “You gotta teach me how you do that.”

“Do what?” I asked, toweling myself off. I couldn’t wait to hit the showers, so I squirted some of my water on my forehead just to keep the sting of sweat from my eyes. Today’s game was intense.

“That thing where you know what everyone around you is doing?” she laughed. “Seriously, it’s like you’re psychic.”

I laughed. “Like I said before the game, you just have to look for patterns. Who does what in a typical situation, you know?” Part of me wondered if it was the same way Keaton knew things. He could just see patterns in how things worked. I didn’t care, though, since it was what brought us together, his unusual gift.

She shook her head. “I still can’t believe that just because of a busted ankle last season, you could predict every one of Nikki Schlotter’s moves. That was something out of the
Twilight Zone
.”

“Just observation,” I said. “If you want, I can talk to the team again before the next game.”

Jami grinned. “Yeah, I’d like that. We’ve been talking, the other seniors and me. We think you’re going to make a great captain someday.”

I nodded. “I’m in no rush.”

She patted my shoulder and we made our way to our lockers. Things this year had been amazing. Being the reigning national champions made us celebrities on campus. Coach had asked me a few times for strategy tips, and the team had come to rely on them.

“Thea, can you lock the door behind you?” Callie asked. I didn’t realize it, but I was the last one in the locker room. Guess my nostalgia for this year was slowing me down.

Time for that shower.

I peeled off my damp uniform and tossed it into the laundry bin. I had packed some fresh clothes in my locker’s drawer, but for the life of me I couldn’t find them. I rifled through my belongings, desperate for even a T-shirt so I didn’t have to put that gross uniform back on.

Finding nothing, I went back to the laundry hamper to fish out the yucky uniform. I’d just shower after I got back to the dorm.

But the hamper was gone. And one of the showers had been turned on.

“Looking for something?” I heard from the shower-room entrance.

I smiled.

Keaton stood leaning against the doorway, all leather and eyeliner, holding a pair of my panties.

“How is it you’re so quiet and stealthy?” I asked. “Especially when your schedule says you should be in Philly tonight.”

“That’s tonight, and it’s only three o’clock,” he said, crooking his finger at me. “And you’re not nearly wet enough for my liking. Come, I got your lucky shower nice and hot. Let me clean you up.”

“Good, because I’m feeling dirty.” I walked toward him, naked and ready, holding my lucky roll of tape behind my back. It had been two weeks since I had seen him last, since he was busy recording their new album,
A Fresh Start
.

The summer in Europe was spectacular. Each city was a wonder, each show a marvel, and each night a miracle. I treasured every moment on the road, and although I returned home exhausted, I wouldn’t have traded the trip for the world. When fall came, we made plans to see each other at least once a month before his next tour, which he had carefully planned to coincide with my basketball season.

“As much as I love that leather,” I said, eyeing him up and down, “I’m afraid it will get ruined in the shower.”

Keaton shrugged. “I can buy more.”

“Get. Naked.”

He bowed, rolling his wrist dramatically like some sort of fancy butler. “Yes, Mistress.”

I chuckled, and watched him wiggle out of his insanely tight pants and threadbare tee. Then I was looking at all muscle and ink. Delicious.

I walked past him to the shower he had waiting for me.

“May I wash your hair?” he asked, stepping under the hot spray beside me.

I nodded.

Keaton worked lavender-scented shampoo through my long curls, massaging my scalp and neck with his fingertips. It sent jolts of pleasure through me, foreshadowing more of what his touch could do to me.

I tipped my head under the deluge, enjoying the sensual sensations.

After rinsing my hair until it was shiny, Keaton massaged in the conditioner, raking his hands through my hair, carefully separating the locks, occasionally running his hands down my back as if accidentally.

“Massage me,” I said once the conditioner was rinsed from my hair. “Today’s game was particularly rough on my shoulders.”

He slid his hands across my collarbone and I nearly lost control of my legs. His fingers, so nimble, worked at the muscles of my shoulders and upper back with such gentle yet aggressive pressure that I wanted to scream in pleasure. He started kneading down my back and I wobbled.

“How about you lean against the shower wall,” he said, pressing himself to my back. I moaned, feeling his erection against me as the cold tiles pressed against my hot skin. He kept his pelvis against my ass as he massaged, and the more I wiggled under his touch, the more I wanted him.

And I could feel just how mutual it was from the pulsing twitch of his cock.

“Baby Blue,” I moaned, “Mistress needs a more . . . comprehensive massage.”

He brought his lips to my earlobe and sucked. “But of course.”

Keaton slipped one hand over my hip bone and downward, grabbing me between my legs.

“That’s a start,” I said as he thumbed my clit in small, slow circles. I arched my back and felt his tip nearly inside me.

His free hand roamed my ass, squeezing, caressing, and basically driving me crazy. “Keaton, deeper please,” I insisted, further angling my body so he could slide right in.

Taking my cue, Keaton slid into my wetness, pushing me harder against the tile wall. I grabbed on to the shower’s controls for leverage as he held me there, pinned. With his hand still working me on the outside, I came hard and fast and already desperate for more on the inside.

“On the floor,” I said, pointing to the spot right under the spray.

Keaton pulled out of me and lay down on the wet tiles.

“Hands where I can see them,” I said, revealing the tape, and his eyes went wide.

“Where’d you hide that?” he asked, stunned that I had out-Keatoned him.

I tossed it in the air and smirked. “I’ve picked up a lot of tricks,” I said, lowering myself to him and binding his wrists. “What can I say? I learned from the best.”